Murdoch Goes Bump in the Night
by Demosthenes23
Summary: Toronto attempts it's first ever Trick or Treating event. Note: Continuation of my previous Murdoch Mysteries stories.
1. The cat and the scarecrow

Murdoch was in the middle of reading a rather confusing article in the Toronto Gazette when Julia and Ben showed up at his office. He found their presence to be a welcome relief from the article in question.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything important," Julia said smirking at his expression.

He smiled, stood up and went to her. "Not at all," he said kissing her.

"Eww, gross!" exclaimed little Ben, covering his eyes. "Why are you _always_ doing that?"

Julia and Murdoch shared an exasperated look. Ben had asked this question many times before and they had always answered him the same way every time. Maybe that was the problem.

"Because we love each other very much," said Julia. Then she hunched over and kissed him on the cheek. "Just like we love you very much."

He rubbed the spot for a few seconds with a scowl across his face and didn't say anything, arms crossed. Murdoch knew it was best to just leave him be or he might through a tantrum.

"I suppose we should go now," said Murdoch. He grabbed the paper before they left and scowled at it slightly, exactly like his son had. Of course, Julia noticed this and asked him about it. "Oh, it's just this strange article about Hallowe'en. I can't make heads or tails about it."

"May I?" she asked holding out her hand. He gave it to her as they made their way out of the precinct, George waving to them from the telephone.

Julia scanned the article as they walked along the street. "Really, William?" she said, laughing. "This is what's gotten you so confused?" Murdoch was a little peeved at her outburst but simply nodded waiting for her to continue. "It's the newest fad for children to get dressed up as all manner of ghoulish creatures and go around getting candy from strangers."

"But why would anyone want to do that? That sounds dangerous."

"Because it's fun!" pipped up Ben, apparently over his annoyance. "John and Bobby are gonna do it! I wanna do it too!"

"Is he telling the truth, Julia?"

"Yes, William. In fact, Margaret and I just finished working out the logistics."

Murdoch was having none of this nonsense. He wanted to put a stop to it before it went any further, so he decided to tell a story, similar to what he imagined George would tell.

"Son," said Murdoch, "do you know the origins of Hallowe'en?"

He seemed to think about that hard for several moments, judging by his scrunched up face. "Nope!"

"Well, centuries ago it was called Samhain and it's purpose was to celebrate the change in season. It was also a time that many honoured their dead. It was believed that the door to the great beyond was opened on this day. Many awaited their deceased loved ones for grand feasts. But there were other spirits that were not so kind."

"_William_," warned Julia, not liking the direction this was taking. He ignored her.

"There were those that wished to hurt the living. They were feared. The people wore disguises in order to _hide_ from these evil spirits. They stayed indoors were it was safe and waited for them to pass by. Otherwise, there was no telling what could happen to them. So tell me, Ben, do you still want to get dressed up, wandering the streets at night?"

Murdoch was confident that he had scared his son out of this idea by the open mouthed expression he currently wore.

All of a sudden his eyes lit up and he exclaimed, "That sounds awesome! I always wanted to see a ghost!"

Julia burst out laughing and Murdoch got annoyed at both of their attitudes.

"Well there you go dear," she said grinning, "I'd say we've got plans for tomorrow night."

* * *

It was a quarter to seven the next evening and Brackenreid was giving one of his patented pep talks to his men.

"I don't want this bloody thing to get out of hand!" he barked. "I need you lot to pull double duty tonight! I won't stand for any goddamn shenanigans! If you see the slightest suspicious thing, you better make sure to investigate immediately! Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" was the collective cry.

"Good!" And then quieter but just as tense, "Let's just keep these children safe lads. The last thing we want is for one of them to go missing."

He dismissed the men and walked over to Murdoch, who was still in his office, pouring over a medical journal.

"Is it time, sir?" he asked looking up.

"'Fraid so, me old mucker," Brackenreid grumbled. "Better not keep the wives waiting. Let's get this bloody thing over and done with."

* * *

"How do I look daddy?" squealed a positively bouncing Ben. He was dressed as a clown, complete with make-up, fake wig and oversized shoes. No doubt their trip to the circus during the summer time had inspired this idea. Young Ben had taken (in Murdoch's opinion) an unhealthy interest in them. For some reason he thought clowns were simply divine. Murdoch had never liked them very much himself, he thought they were far too outlandish.

"Well," he muttered and Julia gave him the stink eye. "You look great, son, just great!"

"Yay!" Ben yelled and hugged Murdoch's leg, some of the make-up coming off in the process. "Oops," he mumbled glumly.

"Nevermind, Ben," he said knocking it off, "it's quite all right." He sighed, "Let's just go."

He held out his arm to a smiling Julia and they headed out the door.

* * *

The group of seven walked down the darkened street until they came to the first house. John, Bobby and Ben looked up at their parents expectantly.

"Go on then," said Brackenreid. Murdoch simply nodded.

They screamed excitedly as they ran to the door.

"Be careful!" called out Julia, knowing it would be very easy for Ben to trip.

Bobby being the oldest and bravest knocked on it. Almost instantly an elderly woman peeked her head out.

"What do you want?" she asked not unkindly, more confusedly.

John and Bobby shared a look and John whispered. "What were we supposed to say again?"

"Um," muttered Bobby.

"Trick or Treat!" erupted Ben, scaring the old woman.

She got over that quickly and said, "Come again?"

"You're supposed to give us candy!" exclaimed John, holding out a pillow case.

"Why?"

"Because it's Hallowe'en!" said Bobby.

"Oh," she responded, clearly still not following, "I'm sorry but I don't have any."

"What!" John said angrily. "That's stupid! You're-"

"Forgive them," said Margaret who had decided to see what all the fuss was about. "Come along boys."

"But-"

"Listen to your mother!" hollered Brackenreid.

At his words they zoomed away, leaving Ben behind. He struggled to catch up in his ridiculous red shoes.

"Wait for Benjamin!" called Margaret still by the door.

They skidded to a halt and began screaming. "Hurry up Ben! You're so slow!"

Finally he caught up and they moved to the next house.

"What happens if no one's got any candy?" said Brackenreid smirking. "Can we just go home early then?"

"You better hope that doesn't happen, Thomas," said Margaret sternly, "or we'll never hear the end of it."

"Bloody hell!" he groaned. "You're right!"

"Of course I am," she said smiling smugly. "I always am."

The next house proved to be much the same as the last and the boys were getting very riled up in their disappointment. Finally the third house yielded some positive results.

"Oh my!" gushed a young woman dressed up as a princess. Clapping her hands together,"What fun!"

Even from the street Murdoch could hear the revelry going on in there. She must have been hosting a rather lively Hallowe'en party. So there was one good thing about this Trick or Treating business, at least he hadn't had to get dressed up as something ridiculous like at that Alice and Wonderland fiasco almost two years ago.

"And what are you three supposed to be! Let me guess, you're a clown."

"Yup!"

"And you're a pirate."

"Yeah!" said Bobby.

"And you're a...bat?"

The boys sniggered and John got indignant. "I most certainly am not! I'm Dracula!"

He exposed some cardboard fangs that were quite soggy and ripped by now.

"Oh yes! I see it now!" She pulled out a bowl of candy. "Dig in boys!"

They got a little carried away and Brackenreid yelled, "Oye! That's enough! Do you want to go to the dentist?"

All three of them shared a terrified look and put back much of the candy.

"Thank the nice lady!" called Margaret.

They did and it was on to the next house. Murdoch hated to think of how long this was going to take.

As if reading his mind, Julia said, "Surely it's not _that_ bad, William."

He stared at her for a few moments. "No, Julia, it's not that bad."

"Good," she said smirking, "because we'll be doing this for the next five years...at least."

* * *

An hour passed in this fashion, more miss than hit, but still enough candy (and less sweet things) was distributed to the boys to keep them happy, especially after Brackenried's warning. Brackenreid had spoken to many of his men during this time, getting updates as they passed through the areas. Other than a few minor instances of hooliganism by local teenagers, there had been nothing to report.

It was clear that Ben was utterly exhausted at this point and it was time to go home. This wasn't surprising for it was eight o'clock and he was five years old. Even the candy he undoubtedly ate would not be enough to keep him awake for much longer. Murdoch was about to pick him up when something flitted by right between them. If he wasn't much mistaken, it had been a black cat.

_Oh no._

Ben was also fascinated with all manner of animals, wanting a pet of his own, but they had told him that he wasn't old enough to look after one yet. And _they_ simply didn't have the time to. And Julia's father simply didn't have the energy to look after both of them. And Margaret could only help out so much.

In other words, as soon as that cat dashed by, Ben was awakened as if struck by a lightning bolt and he charged after it, into the tall bushes, narrowly escaping Murdoch's grasp.

"William!" called Julia from several feet back.

"I'm on it, Julia!" he said dashing in after him. It was harder for him to get through since he was bigger and he didn't fit through the branches quite as easily. When he emerged on the other side, he pulled out his flashlight to scout out the forested area. Ben was nowhere to be found but his red shoes were. Either he kicked them off in order to run faster or...Murdoch didn't want to think of what the alternative was. Panic began to eat away at him and only magnified when he heard a rustling sound from behind. Murdoch whirled around to find Brackenreid struggling to emerge from the bushes. They nodded at each other and spread out into the trees, alternatively calling Ben's name. Searching for several minutes, they still had nothing to show for it and Murdoch began to despair. Suddenly he saw a flash of movement in the distance and he ran towards it.

"Ben, get back here this instant!"

He ran a ways until he came out into a clearing. In the distance he could see a cemetery. It was dimly illuminated by the full moon giving it an eerie appearance. Murdoch spotted many black shapes clustered into one small space. One was much larger than the rest and appeared to be a scarecrow, complete with a few birds, possibly ravens. He vaguely thought it strange that is was out there, but didn't spend much time contemplating this as he had much more important matters to attend to. Out of the other smaller shapes, two of them were moving ever so slightly and he prayed that one of these was his son. As he approached the scarecrow, the ravens cawed angrily and flew off. Murdoch barely noticed for he was paralyzed with fear at the sight before him. His son was inching ever closer to the feral cat. Luckily it wasn't paying much attention to the boy as it was to preoccupied with knawing at something on the ground, beneath the scarecrow.

"Ben, get away from that cat right now!"

His son was not listening to him in the slightest so Murdoch had no choice but to go over and grab him. The boy was so intent on catching the cat that he proved easy prey this time. Murdoch held the kicking and screaming boy under his arm like a sack of potatoes.

Brackenreid showed up then.

"Oh, thank God you found him!" Swatting at the cat with his cane, "Go on, get!"

It hissed at him but scampered off regardless.

"What is this stuff anyways?" scowled Brackenreid and Murdoch shined a light on it. "Is that a pig? And a chicken?"

"Yes, sir, I'd say so."

"What the bloody hell are they doing out here?"

"I haven't the foggiest, sir."

"Well," he said gesturing to where they came from, "shall we, Murdoch?"

"No, I don't think so, sir," said a wide eyed Murdoch, shining the light up at the scarecrow.

Brackenreid followed suit and groaned, "Bloody hell!"

Upon closer inspection, the scarecrow was clearly a dead man strung up, almost like a horrific attempt to recreate the Crucifixion.


	2. Diagnosis Murder

After that gruesome discovery, Ben was exchanged for Julia, and it was left to Margaret to look after all three boys. Brackenreid ordered some constables to get a carriage, escort them back to their place and then wait there until he himself returned home. He wasn't going to leave them completely defenceless, not with a depraved individual on the loose. With any luck he wouldn't be there for very long but he wasn't counting on this.

Murdoch and Brackenreid held their flashlights aloft as Julia began a preliminary examination of the upright body. George and Higgins stood by, ready to be of assistance. Since she couldn't examine him properly in this state, they would need to untie his wrists and legs. But before they did that, George took a couple of photographs to forever immortalize the bizarre tableau. Once that was accomplished they gently lowered the poor soul down to the cold, moist earth. It was necessary to place him some distance from the cross for there was a large pooling of mostly congealed blood beneath it. Somehow both Murdoch and Brackenreid had missed that detail when obtaining Ben. While Julia was occupied with her most familiar of tasks, the rest of them scoured the area for additional clues.

"I've got something!" exclaimed Higgins.

The men went over to him to find out what he had discovered. There were boot prints leading to the crime scene.

"Good job Henry!" said George loudly thumping him on the back.

"Very good work," said Murdoch.

Brackenreid grunted his approval.

Unfortunately these congratulations were short lived. These boot prints were useless. The problem was that the killer had been very cunning. He had meticulously walked back over the initial prints so that it would be impossible to get a clean mould of any of them. There was a silver lining though. They eventually found a second pair of fresh shoe prints coming from the opposite direction. Even though the others had been distorted, these were clearly different from them. What did this mean? Had the dead man rendezvoused with his killer here? If so, for what purpose?

Brackenreid left George and Higgins in charge of taking a couple of moulds so that Murdoch would be free to deal with the body. He squatted down beside his wife to obtain his own separate observations before he got her impressions.

The man appeared to be in his late thirties, was of slim build and light haired. Murdoch supposed he would be considered a handsome man, but it was hard for him to tell as he didn't really take notice of that sort of thing when it came to the same sex, as that would be highly inappropriate. Clearly he had sustained some head damage and been slashed many times as evidenced by the multitudes of tears in his black shirt. But which one had killed him?

"Cause of death, Julia?"

"To be determined, William. It appears that one or more of these stab wounds was fatal but I can't tell that for certain until I open him up."

He nodded and said, "Signs of a struggle?"

She lifted up his hands and arms to show that they were not damaged in any way.

"So he was likely not expecting this attack, which means he probably knew his assailant and wasn't on his guard."

"Seems likely."

"What about this lot?" asked Brackenreid, pointing his cane at the dead animals. "What the bloody hell is that all about?"

"I have no idea," they said almost simultaneously and smiled at each other.

"Well, sir," said George, who had been surprisingly silent until now, "I have a theory."

No one made a sound but it was obvious to everyone except George that they had all just groaned internally. Oblivious as usual, he continued with his next zany theory.

"Oh go on then," said Brackenreid, sighing.

"Satanic worship." They all shared a look but didn't respond. "Think about it. This poor soul was killed in a ritualized way, it's basically human sacrifice. Same thing goes for the animals. What better night to work a demonic ritual than on All Hallows' Eve? It's said that all sorts of evil can be awakened on this night. By the looks of all this, someone was hell bent on doing just that. Now the only question is what they awakened. My guess is zombies since we're in a graveyard. We should spread out and look for freshly turned earth. I'll start over-"

"Can it Crabtree!" barked Brackenreid. George was startled by this rude awakening back to reality. Higgins and Julia were smirking at his expression. "Are we done here doctor?"

Julia glanced at him and said, "Yes, I believe so."

Brackenreid signalled to the two constables to load the body into the carriage. Julia got in beside it and Murdoch decided to ride with her to the morgue, not wanting her to be alone on this night. He would never admit it to anyone but this whole situation was so strange that he was half believing George's crazy theory. Brackenreid took a separate carriage home to his wife and children with much the same thoughts in mind.

* * *

Back at the morgue, Julia's favourite song was playing quietly in the background as she worked away at the ravaged body. Murdoch was busy comparing the shoe print to the deceased's shoes. It didn't take long to ascertain that they were indeed one and the same.

Since it was going to be awhile before Julia was done, he sat at her desk and continued reading that engrossing medical journal from before. It was written by the brilliant Austrian Karl Landsteiner and dealt exclusively with blood. Karl was trying to determine why two people's blood would agglutinate, or clump together and make their blood incompatible with one another. Murdoch was disappointed to find that Karl had been unsuccessful in determining the specific reason for this. If he had been, blood transfusions would be much safer and potentially save countless lives. Murdoch hoped Karl would one day soon figure out this most puzzling dilemma.

By the time he finished reading the journal, Julia had conducted her autopsy and she called him over.

"What have you, Julia?"

As she washed her bloody hands in the bowl of ice cold water, she explained her findings.

"His death is as I assumed. The stab wound in the centre of his chest was definitely the fatal blow." She dried her hands off on an already soiled towel and gestured to the rest of the cuts. "The rest of these were mostly superficial wounds. Some were deeper than others but none of them would have killed him." Julia got a disgusted look on her face then. "William, whoever did this was very disturbed. Those cuts were inflicted some time before he was finally put out of his misery."

Murdoch raised his eyebrows. "Torture then? But why did no one hear his cries?"

"They were out in the middle of a cemetery, William, there was no one _to_ hear them."

"Yes, of course. If he was tortured that means the killer had a deep seated hatred towards him."

"That would be my guess too."

"So his assailant struck him in the head and then strung him up."

"Yes, I'd say that was a safe assumption." She laughed and said, "I don't think it's too likely this man _willingly_ allowed this to happen to him."

He smiled politely at that and said, "If we take into consideration the height he was elevated off the ground, how tall would his killer have been?"

"Judging by the upward angles of these slashes, I'd say not tall at all. No more than five foot four."

"A child then?"

"Or a woman, or a short man. Really, William, I'm surprised at you." He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "I'd say it must have been a man considering it would have required quite a bit of strength to get him up there. Either that or there were two killers but I found no evidence of this."

"Neither did I."

"So there you go, the culprit is most certainly a short, strong man."

"Time of death?"

"Between seven and eight o'clock."

"So we just missed this?"

"It appears so."

"How unfortunate."

"Quite."

"All right then, shall we go home now?"

"What?" she said feigning shock. "The great detective Murdoch wants to go home before a case has been solved? What has the world come to!"

"That's quite enough, Julia," he said smiling. "Let us get some rest. I have a feeling we'll be needing it."

* * *

The next morning it was plastered all over the front page of the Gazette.

_**Scarecrow Killer at Large** _

_There will be no treats for this slash happy individual, hopefully the constabulary can trick him into giving himself away. _

Murdoch couldn't read any more of the bad writing. The reporter who had taken over for Glynn was not nearly as talented. And Ruby couldn't do it because she was no longer in the picture. A few months ago there had been a monstrous fight between George and her. From what Murdoch had gleaned from Julia, George had confessed his undying love for her and asked her to marry him. She had reciprocated the feeling but did not say yes. This hadn't surprised either Murdoch or Julia because Ruby had always been clear (to them at least) on how little she cared for the institution, which was why she didn't consider having affairs with married men to be a bad thing.

Admittedly those days appeared to be in her past, though George had never really known about all her past lovers so it was no wonder that he was so clueless. He had been so devastated by this development that he had taken several days off from work, something that he had never done before, even when he had been banged up badly from that exploding building over a year ago. Eventually, Julia had forced her sister to go speak to him. It was at that point that all hell broke loose. They had been so loud that the constabulary had been called in. The next day Ruby had vanished without a word to her sister or anyone. They hadn't seen her since but they had heard her or more correctly read her.

Apparently, she had gone to the States to write articles about the Wright brothers. They had been making headlines with their amazing aeronautics and Murdoch was a little jealous that she was bearing witness to such sights. But only a very little for he had seen something far more awe inspiring during his wedding reception. He wondered then if Bell and Pendrick had had any fresh successes with their dream of manned flight that would take them around the globe. He wished then that he kept in better touch with his acquaintances but that sort of thing always seemed to slip his mind. The only person he could faithfully correspond with without fail was his mentor father O'Connell and that was only because he had been writing letters to him for so many years that it was ingrained in his being. He dreaded the day he would receive a letter saying that he had passed. But the man was old and it was only a matter of time. Death and taxes, count on death.

After she left, it was like a switch had been flipped and George was suddenly hunky dory again. Murdoch strongly suspected that he had taken to drinking as a way to help numb the pain and get through the day. He was no stranger to such a tactic, he had done so many times before. He tried talking to George about it but he would always deny that he was becoming an alcoholic. So far it hadn't affected his work, but once it did, Murdoch didn't know what he would do with him.

But now was not the time to contemplate such issues, he had a murder to solve.


	3. The usual suspects

"Sir," said George, "I've just received a call from a Mrs. Peddleton. Apparently her husband never came home from work last night and now that she's read the paper, believes the deceased to be him. Should I bring her in?"

"Yes, George, see that you do."

Shortly after he left, Brackenreid called him into his office. He appeared to be in a particularly foul mood this fine morning.

"Close the door," he grumbled, staring deeply into the contents of his tumbler, as if trying to divine mystical secrets from it. Murdoch waited patiently for him to continue, knowing he would begin when he was good and ready. Brackenreid downed the whiskey and said, "We've got a serious problem, me old mucker."

"And what would that be, sir?"

Brackenreid sighed sadly, "A child went missing last night."

Murdoch narrowed his eyes. "Why wasn't this reported earlier?"

"Dead beat parents," he hissed. "They were out drinking all bloody night and only got home a few hours ago. It took them that long to notice their six year old was missing."

"Did they not even leave a caretaker?"

"Like I said before, Murdoch, they were goddamn dead beats." He scowled and barked, "I'd like to bash their bloody heads together!"

Murdoch assumed this meant he hadn't already done so and was proud of the inspector if not mildly disappointed. He couldn't imagine people who could be so careless. They rarely dealt with these sorts of issues and Murdoch was thankful for it. Since he had become a parent, he especially didn't look forward to having to do so, as he imagined this would be much harder to handle if the outcome turned grim. And since they had lost precious hours of time, the likelihood of this was magnified ten fold.

"I'd like to help out in any way I could, sir, but I fear I'm about to-"

"Yes, yes, I know you've got a bloody murder investigation to attend to! I was there last night, wasn't I?" Calmer, "I just wanted to keep you apprised of the situation. We may need your expertise at some point."

"Of course, sir," he replied, silently hoping that wouldn't be necessary.

* * *

Julia pulled back the white sheet to reveal the mans face. Mrs. Peddleton breathed in sharply once but didn't react in any other way.

"For the record, Mrs. Peddleton," said Murdoch soberly, "is this your husband?"

"Yes, that's him," she said quietly, inexpressive.

He wondered if she was in shock or simply trying not to let her emotions show in public. Or there was a third option, perhaps she didn't much care about the man lying on the autopsy table? Not every marriage was as solid and loving as the one he shared with Julia.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," said Murdoch truthfully, having experienced this several times himself. First his mother and then his fiancee. He didn't know what he would do with himself if anything ever happened to Julia. He had come close to finding this out, he prayed every day that he never got closer.

"Thank you," she said in that same removed voice, as if she wished she weren't there.

"I'm very sorry to do this, Mrs. Peddleton, but I'm going to need to ask you some questions now. Do you think you are up to it?"

Without hesitation, "What would you like to know?"

"Not here, ma'am. We can discuss this matter further at the precinct."

"Why?"

He was some what taken aback by her response. Normally people couldn't wait to get out of the morgue.

"I think you'd appreciate the change of setting."

"I'm perfectly fine where I am."

Murdoch exchanged a look with his wife. This was all that was needed to tell her that he could use her help now in this matter. Maybe a woman's touch was necessary?

"Trust me, Mrs. Peddleton," said Julia earnestly, gently touching her arm, "you would much rather answer the detectives questions at the station house."

"Oh all right," she said, "if you're going to insist on it. But I don't understand what all the fuss is about. He's dead, he's not going to care what I say about him anymore."

So it was the third option then, she didn't much care for her husband. What had he been up to that made her so cold? He supposed he was about to find out.

* * *

Back in his office he began questioning her.

"What kind of relationship did you have with your husband, Mrs. Peddleton?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was it a warm and loving one?"

"Are you trying to insinuate that I had something to do with this?"

Murdoch sighed internally. _Why was this woman being so difficult?_

"No, that was not my goal, ma'am. I'm simply trying to determine the kind of life you shared with your late husband. I need a foundation with which to build everything else from."

She became impassive again. "It's true that we didn't have a close marriage. But that was always the case. I didn't marry for love, detective, but rather for convenience sake."

He had heard this story many times before. It was a very common occurrence nowadays that a woman would agree to marry a man she didn't love simply to secure a future for herself, but usually the widow showed _some _emotion at having lost her spouse. The only question was whether the feeling had been mutual.

"Did your husband share your lack of sentiment or did he want more?"

"At first he expected certain favours from me, as do most married men, but gradually he stopped pestering me and I was more or less left to my own devices."

Had Mr. Peddleton simply given up on his amorous pursuits or had he found solace from another source? Was he having an affair? If so would his wife have cared enough to have him killed? It didn't seem very likely to him but he wasn't going to rule out the possibility all together.

"I see. Can you think of anyone who would want to have harmed him?"

"Not really. As far as I know, everyone at work loved him."

"And where would that be?"

"The courthouse. He was a barrister for the Kirvish firm."

_Oh no. Not another barrister. _ Their colleagues were always a nuisance to deal with.

"Had he been acting strangely at all before his death?"

"I don't think so, at least, I didn't notice anything peculiar."

But that really wasn't saying much as she wasn't a big part of his life anymore. He would need to explore other avenues of investigation. Starting with his business partners.

"Are we done here?"

"Just one more question, Mrs. Peddleton. Where were you between seven and eight o'clock last night?"

"At home, having dinner, alone."

_So no alibi then. Delightful._

"Was that a normal occurrence?"

"In the past, he used to come home right after work. But recently, he took to coming home later and later."

"Thank you, ma'am, that will be all."

* * *

Murdoch stood up from his chair to shake the older short man's hand. He was the right height of the killer but didn't look nearly strong enough to pick up a hundred and fifty pound man single handedly.

"Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Mr. Snape."

"He's dead isn't he? Jonathon?" He had a husky British accent.

"How did you come to that conclusion so quickly, sir?"

"I wasn't involved if that's what you were implying." Murdoch continued to stare at him in a piercing manner but it appeared to have no effect on him. "It's obvious, isn't it?" he said shrugging. "Jonathon didn't show up to work this morning and he's never late. And besides which, why else would a celebrated homicide detective have called me in at nine o'clock the morning after a man was stabbed to death not two kilometres from his house?"

Murdoch smiled wryly. "I see you are good at your job."

Mr. Snape smiled and said, "I should hope so. I've been at it long enough." His smile disappeared and he said, "But this is just _awful_. Jonathon was a wonderful man and one of my best workers. How could someone do such a despicable thing to him?"

"That's what I aim to discover. Where were you between seven and eight o'clock?"

"The courthouse."

"That's rather late."

"Tell me, detective, do you never have to put in long hours?"

Mr. Snape had him there, so Murdoch moved on.

"So tell me, sir-"

"My relationship to Jonathon was uncomplicated." Murdoch was annoyed at being interrupted but didn't let it show. "He would take the cases that I didn't have the time to handle, and might I add, he would win a vast majority of them. Occasionally we would go to the pub after a hard days work and discuss various topics. Usually it was work related but sometimes we would talk about our personal lives. He tried to pretend like he had the perfect marriage but I could tell that he was lying, especially after I put a few beers in him. Poor fellow had gone and married someone who didn't actually care for him. He had tried to make it work but his wife wasn't the least bit interested in him and so he had begun to pull away from her." Murdoch opened his mouth but the man continued. "And no, I don't think he's the sort of person who would go and have an affair. But I wouldn't bet my life on that." His nose crinkled a little as if he had smelled something bad. "Oh what a terrible thing to say!"

"Can you think of anyone who-"

"No I don't know why anyone would have done this to Jonathon. He was well liked by everyone he met." Sourly, "Except of course, his wife."

"You don't have a very high opinion of her, I take it?"

"I simply don't understand what her problem was. Jonathon adored her and was a devoted husband who showered her with gifts and attention. What more could a woman want?"

What more indeed?

* * *

"Mr. Snape's alibi checks out, sir," said George. "His secretary said he was working until half past eight."

Since they had no leads to go on and most of the constables were busy scouring the city for the missing child, it was left to Murdoch and George to canvas the area nearby the killing. Luckily, because of the location, there weren't that many houses to visit and this was accomplished faster than expected.

They hadn't had much luck with eyewitnesses, though one woman had seen a man matching Mr. Peddleton's description walking by her house just before the time of the murder. The same couldn't be said for his killer.

Frustrated by their lack of evidence, Murdoch did the one thing he could think of. He turned to his trusty blackboard. Maybe if he could map out the time leading up to Jonathon's death, he could pinpoint a potential suspect? But before he could do that, he would need to talk to more people.

Once that had been accomplished, his meticulous timeline was constructed. He would have explained it to his boss, except he was out searching for the child.

This is what he had so far. At eight o'clock in the morning Jonathon had arrived at work. And at five thirty he had left. At five forty he was seen at a local pub, one that he frequented often. According to the bartender, at a quarter to seven he had received a phone call from a man. Apparently it had been distressing for he left in a hurry immediately afterwards. That gave him plenty of time to get to the cemetery before the estimated time of death. And as Murdoch already knew, Jonathon had been in the area about three minutes before seven. If there was a conversation between him and his killer, it could have lasted anywhere between five and fifty five minutes before he was killed. Murdoch thought the shorter side was more likely as the killer had been quite a hateful individual and probably wasn't interested in talking. Besides which, if Jonathon had suspected his demise was imminent, he would have defended himself in some way.

It all came back to the same conclusion. The lack of defensive wounds, the fact that they knew which bar he went to, suggested Jonathon knew his killer. But his wife was too tall and weak to be the killer and the person on the phone was identified as male. And Mr. Snape was short enough but also not strong enough, and he had an alibi. So who did that leave? No one that his circle of friends and colleagues knew about, that's who.

Even more frustrated than he previously had been, he headed to the morgue to pick Julia's brain. Maybe she would see something that he had not?

After explaining all his findings to her she said, "Well, have you thought about _why_ Mr. Peddleton was in the cemetery?"

"Because his killer told him to meet him there and he wanted privacy."

"Yes, but if those were the only reasons, surely it would have made more sense to kill him in an alleyway or a basement or some other out of the way place. Why did the killer choose such a peculiar meeting place?"

He thought he was beginning to understand her train of thought.

"The cemetery holds special meaning to one or both of them."

"I knew you'd get there eventually," she said smirking. "Which brings me to another point. I finished examining the animals at the scene."

"And what did you discover?"

"That a second person killed them not long before Jonathon was murdered. The cuts were clearly different from the ones found on Jonathon's body. These were much more hesitant."

"Are you saying there were two killers after all?"

"Possibly," she said thoughtfully, "but you found no evidence of this. And there is another more logical explanation."

"Oh?"

"Mr. Peddleton killed them."

If Julia was right, what did this mean?


	4. Panic Attack!

He stared at his wife for a few moments before responding.

"If that's the case, then what on earth is going on?"

"Maybe George was right after all," she said coyly, "maybe they _were_ trying to awaken some zombies!"

Murdoch stared at her again and she burst out laughing.

"There's got to be a logical explanation for everything, Julia. I just can't figure out what that might be."

"What do I always say, William?"

_Give it time, the answer will come to you. It always does. _ "Yes, you are right, I'm sure I'm just overlooking something."

"Is something else the matter?" she asked. "You don't seem quite like yourself."

"It's nothing, Julia." She continued to give him a piercing stare. "It's just I'm worried about the missing child. If they haven't found her by now..."

His wife touched his shoulder and said, "There's no point in thinking that way yet, William, there's still hope that all will turn out right."

He placed his hand over hers. "You are right of course. But realistically speaking-"

"William, why don't we go for a bicycle ride? I think you will find the cool air refreshing and you'll feel better."

Murdoch thought about that for a bit and nodded.

* * *

They biked through the park and around the nearby streets and eventually his heart was lightened a bit and he didn't feel quite so gloomy anymore. However, as they approached the precinct again, George came running out of the building and towards the bicycle rack. When he saw them he changed direction and headed towards them. He looked positively spooked.

"Sir! Sir!" he called as Murdoch skidded to a halt right in front of George.

"What is the meaning of this, George?"

"It's Ben! He's missing!"

At that instant, Murdoch's brain felt like it turned to mush as the blood had drained completely from it. He was light headed and disorganized and couldn't seem to comprehend what George had just said. He staggered badly and almost fell over, dropping the bike in order to try and keep his balance. George didn't try to help him though, he had zoomed over to Murdoch's left and was holding Julia upright instead. The remnants of her summer tan had vanished completely and transformed into a sickeningly white colour. Murdoch imagined he looked just about the same.

All of a sudden the blood squeezed back into his skull and a blind panic took hold of him. He was almost physically ill but managed to keep his stomach under control. Finally he managed to form words again.

"What do you mean he's missing?"

"There was a fire down the street and in all the commotion-"

"What has been done to find him!" said Julia frantically, shaking George.

"I called all available hands to start searching the area but other than that, nothing has been done! I just got the call a few minutes ago! I was on my way to find you two!"

Without another word, Murdoch hopped back on his bike and raced home, the other two hot on his wheels.

* * *

As the trio approached The Murdoch residence, they could see giant plumes of smoke rising up from a house down the street at the Franklin's. The firefighters were doing the best they could to quench the remaining flames. A crowd had gathered to watch their progress, their backs to the approaching party. As long as the fire wagon didn't run out of water, they would likely succeed in putting it out completely. As to whether the building would be structurally sound afterwards, that was anyone's guess.

"Mr. Franklin!" said Murdoch in a distressed manner, "what happened here?"

"I don't know!" said the equally distressed man, "we went out for a stroll and when we came back, the house was afire!" The man peeled his eyes away to look at the newcomers. "I heard what happened to your son, this is absolutely terrible. What is the world coming to?"

"Listen up!" yelled George in his best Brackenreid impersonation making many heads turn, "We're going to need to ask all you fine folks some questions! So don't be going anywhere!"

While George and another constable were doing that, Julia wanted to speak with her father to find out his perspective of events.

"I'm so sorry, Julia," said Mr. Ogden, head in hands. "I don't know how I could have been so careless."

Murdoch could tell that she was furious with him but she controlled her rage and said with a forced calm, "It's okay father. Just tell us what happened."

"Well, we were outside and Ben was playing with his toys and then I heard screams about a fire. I told him to stay put because it wasn't safe. I was only gone a minute but when I returned-" He started sobbing and she patted him on the back for a few moments.

Once he had quieted down a bit she went over to Murdoch. "We can't just stand around like this, William, we have to _do _something!"

"My thoughts exactly."

While the few spare constables scouted out the area, Julia and Murdoch decided to check out Ben's favourite places to go. Maybe he had simply wandered away? Maybe it wasn't what Murdoch was dreading?

But it was not to be, Ben was nowhere to be found!

Murdoch got a progress report from George. He was sorry to inform him that no one saw Ben leaving with anyone because they had been distracted by the fire. But there was a silver lining, someone had seen someone out of the ordinary near the Franklin's place shortly before that. Murdoch and Julia went to speak with this person now, a Miss Gershwin.

"Miss Gershwin, I want you to tell me everything you told the constable, no matter how insignificant you may think it is."

"Well I was beating out the dust from my masters rugs and I saw a suspicious sort of fellow hanging around where he had no right to be."

"In the Franklin's backyard?"

"That's right, sir. I thought he was maybe fool enough to be robbing them in broad daylight. I was going to scare the dummy off with my masters shotgun. But by the time I came back with it, he was already gone and I saw the smoke coming out of an open window. I called it in right after, sir, yes I did."

"And did you get a good look at his face?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

At her words, Murdoch was so elated he could have jumped for joy. Instead he simply smiled a little and looked at Julia to see a mirror image.

"Do you think you could come down to the station right away?"

"I don't know, sir, it depend on whether the master let me go."

"That won't be an issue. You have my word."

"Then of course, sir, I'd be happy to help. I just wish I had been faster. I could have stopped this whole thing from happening."

"I'm sure you'll more than make up for this in no time."

* * *

The Murdoch's and George anxiously watched as Miss Gershwin used Murdoch's specially designed face plates to create the arsonists face. The intolerably slow process was interrupted when Brackenreid came storming into the precinct. He locked eyes with Murdoch and hurriedly came to him.

"Bloody hell, Murdoch!" he boomed, somewhat wild eyed and making Miss Gershwin look up. "I just heard! Goddammit! What utter bollocks!"

"Let's go into your office, sir," he said steering him away from her and into his bosses office so that she could concentrate on the important task. George followed them.

With the door closed behind them, Brackenreid whirled around on him, grabbing his coat collar. "How can you be so bloody calm at a time like this Murdoch! Your goddamn son is missing!"

"I assure you, sir, I'm far from calm." In fact, his mind was racing faster than it ever had before but not in a good way like when he had an epiphany. His thoughts followed a similar theme, those of turbulence and chaos and despair. His sanity was hanging on by a thread, if he didn't get some good news soon, it was liable to snap and he would be lost in a void of nothingness, completely and utterly useless to anyone.

"Could have fooled me," muttered his boss. Brackenreid poured himself a drink and downed it, then poured another and tried to force it upon Murdoch.

"No thank you, sir, I'd like to keep my mind sharp." Of course this was far from the case already, but he didn't want his boss to know that and he didn't need to make matters worse by trying to dull his senses.

"Suit yourself, me old mucker," he said emptying that glass as well. Murdoch saw the thirsty look in George's eye. Murdoch wondered if that was the only reason he had followed them in here. But George was controlling himself the best he could by not asking for something that wasn't offered to him. He would probably be able to give Brackenreid a run for his money nowadays. If only he would admit his problem.

"Have you had any more luck finding the missing girl?" Brackenreid sighed and that was answer enough for him. "What have you found out so far?"

Murdoch was asking for purely selfish reasons. He was convinced that the missing children were somehow connected because such occurrences were rare enough as it was. Brackenreid pulled himself together and filled Murdoch in on everything they had learned.

The girls name was Bridget McGuinty. Her parents were Felix and Veronica. They were dirt poor and had been that way for all their lives. They lived in a ramshackle building on the outskirts of town. She was their only child. She was adopted. Felix's brother and sister-in-law had died in a freak carriage accident and he had taken Bridget on as his own charge because he had thought it would be better than the orphanage. He had been very wrong. From all accounts, her life had been miserable for the past year.

The constables had searched high and low for her but had no clue what had become of her. There were no eye witnesses but clearly she hadn't just left of her own accord because the few things she did own were still there at the house. She had been missing long enough that she could be in another city by now...or worse. Murdoch prayed the latter was not the case because he knew in his heart that Ben had also been taken by the same person. And if this was the state of affairs, they must still be in the city somewhere.

By the time they had discussed this, Julia informed them that Miss Gershwin had finished forming the arsonists face. She hadn't seemed very happy about this development though and it was no wonder; to the gang's extreme disappointment, no one recognized the man.

It took another hour of frantic investigation until they finally identified the man using criminal pictures as references. His name was Charles Hornberger and he was a low level criminal element. He had been arrested four times previously. Once for petty theft, once for disorderly conduct (he had urinated in public) and twice for arson. Murdoch found this news to be far from encouraging. Kidnapping was so far above arson as to be an almost unfathomable leap.

A half hour later his worst fears came true. They found Hornberger face down in an alleyway with a knife sticking out of his back.


	5. A friend in need is a friend indeed

This development sent the Murdochs' into a downward spiral of depression from which they couldn't claw themselves out of. No matter how much they wanted to help with the investigation, they couldn't, they were utterly useless at this point. Brackenried ordered Murdoch to go home and rest and let them handle things for the time being. When they found something of import, someone would come over to get them.

Since Julia was in no shape to perform the autopsy herself, Emily was called in from station house two. She had been working there ever since Julia and Murdoch had patched things up over a year ago. While that job had lasted, her relationship with Higgins had not. They had mutually lost interest in each other a few months after her morgue move. She assumed it was simply a case of out of sight, out of mind. It was no matter, she had known from the beginning that it was never going to work out because he had always been lacking a little in personality to satisfy her tastes.

In the meantime, Julia mustered up enough of her wits to send a telegram to her sister informing her of the turn of events. She had no idea if it would actually reach her though since Ruby had carelessly (or purposely) never given Julia her new contact information. After that was accomplished it became a hellish waiting game, in which they would alternate between frantically combing the missing children's case notes (that Murdoch had snuck out) for some clue they could have overlooked and breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably over the cruel hand of fate. What would they do if something terrible happened to their beloved son? How would they survive the crippling agony of his loss? They consoled each other the best that they could and hung on to their sanity for dear life.

* * *

An hour later, once Emily had finished the autopsy (it had been brief as there hadn't been much to check out) she entered the station house to inform the inspector of her findings. This brought back some good and bad memories of her time there (as had her time in the morgue). When Higgins looked up and made eye contact with her, they both hastily looked away. But when she caught George's eye, they maintained the gaze for several seconds as she walked past his desk and into his bosses office. Was it her imagination or had there been a spark there? Was the flame that had almost been going to be rekindled? Focusing on the important matter again, she closed Brackenreid's door behind her.

"Please tell me you have something to go on," he asked dejectedly, slumped over his desk.

"In a matter of speaking," she said hazarding a small smile. Brackenreid's ears perked up. "Mr. Hornberger's knife wound was nothing special in itself, it was just a single stab wound that severed his spinal cord and killed him instantly. However, I had heard about last nights murder and on a hunch compared this wound to the fatal one found on Mr. Peddleton." She paused for a moment to clear her throat from the cold she had gotten recently and Brackenreid lost his patience.

"Don't leave me in bloody suspense doctor!" he said pounding his fist on the desk and making his quill tinkle against his ink blotter.

"I'm sorry, sir, that was-"

"Just bloody well get on with it!" he shouted, making heads turn outside the office.

She ignored their curious glances and said calmly, "The knife wounds match exactly."

At first he was silent as that sunk in and then he exclaimed, "Bloody hell!" jumped out of his seat and knocked it over. "Are you saying the same sadistic bastard has kidnapped Murdoch's son?"

"Yes, it appears so, sir."

Brackenreid barged out of his office and called the men to attention.

"Listen up lads!" he barked. They hurried to form a semi circle around him. "We've got to go back out there again!" There were a few groans amongst the mass. "Shut your goddamn traps!" Instant silence. "This is a life and death situation! It's now been confirmed that the same blood thirsty killer is responsible for both stabbings! For those of you numb skulls not following, this means at least one of those children are in grave danger! There's no telling how much time they have left! Well, what are you standing around for! Get a move on!" The men began to run out of the precinct but Brackenreid stopped George.

"What is it, sir?"

"I want you to go inform the Murdoch's of the situation."

"Me, sir?" he said, face going pale. "Surely someone el-"

"Just do it!"

"Right away, sir!" he exclaimed glancing in Emily's direction. She gave him a sympathetic smile, he returned it and was out the door.

* * *

When George nervously told them the news, Julia fainted and Murdoch barely caught her and they both tumbled to the ground in a heap of despair. George wanted to say something consoling to Murdoch but saw that there was no point. For at this very moment, Murdoch was not very communicative as he was too preoccupied with rocking an unconscious Julia back and forth and crying unrestrainedly. It was all George could do not to break down with them as he had never seen his mentor lose control so completely. Especially given his own depressed state of mind lately, the scene in front of him was doing him no favours.

Eventually he came to his senses and searched for the smelling salts. While he was rummaging around in drawers and cupboards he came across the little alcohol they had and guiltily finished it off. Then he found what he was looking for, rushed back to his friends aid and opened the container under her nose. She awoke with a start, grabbing George's arm and startling him a bit. Then she clutched at Murdoch when awareness took hold again and her mind became plagued with the terrifying reality.

George understandably felt extremely awkward in this situation and tried to leave but Julia abruptly grabbed his arm again and jumped up, eyes ablaze even through the thick layer of water.

"I've got to find my boy!" she shrieked shrilly, hurting his ears.

Then she took off and George went after her as Murdoch was still wallowing in misery on the floor, barely aware of the goings on.

"Doctor, come back please!" he called, chasing after her. "Where are you going?"

Deaf to his question, she rambled on.

"We've wasted so much time! It might be too late! Ben might be-"

Then she fell to her knees and put her head in her hands. George caught up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Doctor, please come back inside. This cold isn't good for your fragile state."

She limply took his hand and he led her to the cozy interior of her house once more. He would give anything to help them find their child; anything to restore their loving family back to the way it had so recently been. And then like a beam of heavenly light it hit him. He knew how to find Ben!


	6. Mount Pleasant

"Are you off your nut, Crabtree?" muttered Brackenreid wearily. "You can't really expect me to believe that."

"It doesn't matter if you or I believe it, sir," he said earnestly, channelling his mentor, "what matters is that the killer believes it and we have to act accordingly. Besides, this is the best lead we've had all day."

"I suppose you're right, bugalugs." Glancing at the clock beneath the Queen Mother he said grimly, "If we actually pull this off, it'll be a bloody miracle."

* * *

And so the search continued as the sun set but with very specific destinations in mind: cemeteries. There were twenty-five in Toronto and the entire constabulary would need to check each and every single one, including the one they found the first body at, (though no one really expected him to strike twice in the same spot). Some of these graveyards were quite small and didn't require more than a couple of armed men. But most of them had at least three thousand tombstones to wade through and the killer could be hiding behind any one of them.

George and Higgins and several other constables approached Mount Pleasant Cemetery. It was a huge graveyard with well over ten thousand bodies.

_ This could be very time consuming. _

While the others went on ahead, George paused for a moment to check his pocket watch once more. Even though it felt like the hundredth time in the last minute, he was still surprised to find that only three seconds had gone by since he last looked. He had to focus and try to forget about their time limit but this was easier said than done. There was at most twenty minutes left before the unthinkable happened. On top of that, a thick fog had rolled in not long ago making visibility very poor, George couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.

And then to make matters even _worse_, Murdoch and Julia showed up out of nowhere on the periphery of his vision.

_How did they find us? No one was supposed to tell them where we were. They're just going to get in the way._

"Sir and ma'am, you really shouldn't-"

"Don't tell us what we can and can't do!" barked Murdoch uncharacteristically, eyes bulging and bloodshot from all the crying. His hair was a mess, as was his clothing and Julia looked much the same, wild and out for blood. "Give me a shotgun!" he commanded, grabbing the one from George's hands with unusual strength. "I'll kill this son of a bitch myself!"

"Sir, wait!" he called after Murdoch and Julia who had taken off amongst the graves. But it was no use, they were deaf to his plea of caution.

Gunless and vulnerable, he chased after them, not wanting to get left behind in all the gloom and doom. The Murdoch's ran around wildly like chickens with their heads cut off, there was no rhyme or reason to their actions. And this terrified George to no end. What would happen to their sanity if _they_ were the reason Ben was killed? He couldn't help but feel extremely annoyed at himself for letting this happen. If the inspector had been here, it wouldn't have but they had had to split up in order to cover more ground.

After five minutes of this there was a loud yell coming from somewhere up ahead and the Murdoch's finally ran with some purpose in mind, towards the sound. George followed their lead. What they found there was enough to curdle the strongest man's blood. Higgins was on the ground, unmoving and George prayed, still breathing but that wasn't the main attraction or concern at the moment. For you see, two unconscious children were tied up to small crosses, just like Mr. Peddleton had been. This sight shouldn't have surprised George because he had been expecting this yet somehow he still was. But what really scared the living daylights out of him was the robed squat man standing between them, knife pressed to Ben's neck.

George couldn't fathom what the Murdoch's must be going through but he just hoped they had enough sense left to back down until the situation could be accessed more thoroughly or until the other constables arrived. It would be helpful if _someone_ who wasn't out of their mind was armed.

"Get away from my son, you bastard!" screamed Murdoch, raising the gun at the other madman's chest.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, detective!" shrilly lamented a somewhat familiar voice beneath the hood that George couldn't quite place.

"What do you want?" shrieked Julia. "You can have whatever you want, just leave our boy alone!"

"But this _is_ what I want!" the mystery man shouted, just as distraught as the Murdoch's. "This _is_ what I need to do in order to have what I've always wanted!"

Was this lunatic saying what he thought he was? Had he truly been right in his assumption?

"What are you talking about?" yelled Murdoch. "Are you insane!"

"I could ask you the same question, detective! You appear to have lost your marbles since you're willing to shoot a man with a knife on his son! What happens when I fall? Will my hand slip? Do you want to find out? Well do you?" Julia forced Murdoch to lower the weapon, and even somehow managed to take it away from him completely. "That's better," said the man.

George was happy to note that he had calmed down a bit. Now maybe he would be open to reason. If he could just keep him talking for long enough, surely the other constables would find them?

"I know why you did all this," he said tensely.

The hooded head turned in his direction. "I highly doubt that."

"I know that this is rumoured to be the second part of a ritual intended to open the door to hell, a door that closes in the next"-he glanced at his pocket watch- "seven minutes." The man didn't interrupt so he continued. "I know that you want to summon a demon in order to make a deal with it. A deal that would give you the love of a certain woman. You were willing to sell your soul to accomplish this. That's how badly you wanted, no _needed_ her love. I understand your desire."

"What could an insignificant toad like you know about love?"

"Much more than you ever will." George saw a constable stealthily approaching from behind the masked man and went in for the kill. "You went about this the wrong way, this won't work. It's over."

"You can't possibly know that!" he screamed, raising his arm away from Ben as if preparing to slash him. "It will work! It has to!"

Two shots rang out at the same instant. One from Julia and one from the constable standing behind the killer. Julia's shot hit him clean through the heart killing him instantly, which was fortunate because the other constables aim had not been so good. He had only managed to hit him in the leg which would have been painful but wouldn't have stopped his momentum quite as efficiently as Julia's shot.

George and Murdoch stared at her in amazement for a few seconds and then they all ran towards the children. He left them to attend to their son while he and the other constable Lucas untied the poorly dressed girl who was shivering a bit even though she was still unconscious. George could smell the sickly sweet smell of chloroform on her breath when he plucked her off the cross and cradled her in his arms. Lucas offered him his coat to bundle her up with and George placed the shivering child in his embrace instead so that he could attend to Higgins.

As George checked his pulse to find that it was perfectly normal, the other two constables found them, apologizing profusely the whole time by their lack of direction in the now thinning fog.

"You can make up for it by getting some stretchers out here."

They nodded and ran off into the gloom again. George looked over at the Murdoch's huddled on the ground, side by side, each cradling half of the child they so adored. Tears were streaming down both their faces but for once, they were tears of joy, not supreme sadness. The sight brought a single tear to his eye as well. He wiped it away before it fell and then with nothing else to do, approached the perpetrator of all this chaos.

He knelt down beside the small body, which had fallen sideways and pushed him over on his back. George stared at the man's face in wonder. He looked like Mr. Snape but it was not him. This man was younger and far more vital.

_A brother perhaps? Only time will tell._


	7. Change is in the air

So who was this killer? Mr. Snape was called in to identify the body. It turns out that George had been correct. The man's name was Severus and was Mr. Snape's much younger brother. When Brackenreid and George talked to him later at the station house, they got a bit of his background story. Severus had always been an odd duckling in the family and because of his bizarre views had become an outcast amongst his kin.

"I'm ashamed to say that I ostracized him as well years ago. I know it doesn't justify things but I was up for a promotion and I couldn't be associated with such a strange man."

"And you didn't think to mention your brother to us before?" asked Brackenreid coldly, clearly annoyed.

Mr. Snape also became peeved. "He may have been an odd person but I never thought him capable of _this_." He put his head in his hands. "It's all my fault! If I had been a part of his life more, this never would have happened and Jonathon would still be alive." Momentary silence. "Why did he do it?"

"We believe your brother was obsessed with Mrs. Peddleton and wanted to make her his own."

Mr. Snape looked at George incredulously. "I can't imagine when they would have even met." He was silent for a few seconds. "No, wait a minute, I did provide him with a job about half a year ago."

"And what was that?"

"He helped move the Peddletons furniture into their new house after their wedding. It took me awhile to remember this because I forgot that he had even worked in that profession."

"What do you mean?" said Brackenreid.

"Oh Severus was always moving from one job to another. He got bored very easily and was never satisfied with sitting still, except for when he was reading of course. I do seem to recall him being a prolific reader of all sorts of strange things."

They thanked him for his time and he left Brackenreid's office. Brackenreid stared at George.

"So how exactly did you come to your conclusion anyways?"

"Well," he said awkwardly rubbing his neck, "All Hallows Eve was coming up so I did a bit of light reading and came across this human sacrifice ritual and-"

"In other words, you were reading the same garbage that wanker had been." George waited for him to say how disappointed he was in him and how he needed psychiatric help. "It's a good thing too because otherwise, we would have had a blood bath on our hands. Anyways, how did you know he was in love with the wife?"

"The killer tortured Jonathon before his death. This likely meant he really hated him. And passion like that is usually related to love."

"Why did Peddleton go to the graveyard though?"

"Well, sir, this is how I reasoned it. Mr. Peddleton was desperate to make his wife love him. The killer found this out somehow, it's likely he overheard a conversation at the bar. Then at some point more recently, he told Jonathon he could help him out. That's why Jonathon was in the graveyard that night. He thought _he _was going to be making a deal with a demon."

"And the dead animals? How do they fit in?"

"I believe Severus told Mr. Peddleton that all he had to do was kill some animals in a graveyard on a certain night and he'd be able to summon a demon. But this was all just a ruse to get him to go there."

"There's just one other thing, Crabtree. Why do you think Severus chose Murdoch's son as one of the children?"

"I don't know," he said shrugging. "That's been puzzling me as well."

Brackenreid snapped his fingers. "I think I know why! I think that bastard waited around after the killing because he wanted to see people's reactions to his handiwork. Maybe he saw Ben when he ran up there chasing that damn cat?"

"But why would he target a detective's son?" Brackenreid raised his eyebrows at that, not following. "Severus called him that when he showed up."

"Maybe he got full of himself and thought he could mess with one of us?"

"Well, whatever the reason, sir, I'm just glad it all worked out in the end."

"Me too." And then glancing at him slyly said, "That was some excellent detective work, me old mucker. I think it's time for a promotion."

The inspector rarely paid him compliments and he certainly had never called him _that_ before. But it was that last statement that had George standing there in a stupefied manner, while his boss grinned at his reaction.

"What do you say, Crabtree? Are you ready to become acting detective of station house four? I mean, you basically already are but now it'll be official and you'll get a pay increase."

"I'd be honoured, sir!"

They shook hands vigorously. "Care for a celebratory drink?" he asked pulling out some of his good scotch from a drawer.

Part of him wanted that more than anything in the world but he was determined not to give in again. It was time to make some changes in his life.

"No, I don't think so, sir, there's somewhere else I need to be."

* * *

Not long after, Mrs. Peddleton came in so Brackenreid could explain the outcome to her. She seemed impassive for most of the narrative until he got to the part about _why_ it had all happened.

"Are you telling me that this was all done out of love for me?"

"It appears that way, ma'am."

"What an utter disaster," she said quietly, shaking her head. "Why do men think they can force women to love them? Especially when they are like me."

"Excuse me, ma'am? I'm not following."

"That's exactly my point!" she said angrily. "You're all so blind to what's right in front of your eyes!" Brackenreid was a little shocked by her outburst and must have shown it. "I'm sorry, inspector, I shouldn't take my frustrations out on you. I'm angry at myself for denying my true nature."

Then she abruptly left.

_What the bloody hell was that all about? Ohhh..._

* * *

George did not go to the Murdoch's to see how they were doing. In the small likelihood that they weren't fast asleep in each others arms, he certainly didn't want to be the one to disturb their reunion. No, he was headed somewhere else with his good news, somewhere he had recently been.

Emily was at Doctor Murdoch's desk, likely doing the paperwork for the Severus Snape autopsy. However when she saw him enter the brightly lit room, she put her fountain pen down and went over to him.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure once again, constable?"

"It's acting detective now," he said grinning. "The inspector just promoted me."

She seemed pleasantly surprised by this news and smiled back. "Congratulations, George!"she said shaking his hand. He liked the firm nature of her handshake, it wasn't flimsy like so many other women he knew. To him this meant that she wasn't afraid to take what she wanted. Emily released his hand and smirked in that way that used to both delight and annoy him. He hadn't seen it in quite some time so tonight it was all delight. "But I'm confused. Surely I'm not the first person you decided to tell?"

"Well," he said awkwardly, "it's late and I saw the light was still on..."

Graciously she changed the topic, "So how are the Murdoch's fairing?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't actually been to see them yet."

"That's probably for the best considering everything they went through tonight." There was another awkward silence. "And Henry, how is he doing?"

He knew it was unfair of him to be annoyed that she was mentioning her old flame considering the circumstances, especially since they were friends, but he couldn't help it.

"Last I heard he was almost good as new."

"I'm glad. He's a very...competent police officer."

"Yes, Henry is a fine fellow," he said stiffly.

The quiet that filled the room was deafening. He wondered if he had made a mistake coming here and if he should leave.

"Would you like to go for a stroll in the park, acting detective?"

In response he held out his arm and smiled, she smiled back and they left the morgue together arm in arm.

* * *

The next morning Brackenreid was visited by the McGuinty's, apparently only just hearing about their daughters rescue. Felix was quite irate that Bridget hadn't been returned home. His wife just seemed embarrassed to be there and completely out of place.

"Your daughter was in no condition to go back to that drafty house," he said coldly. "She's recuperating at the hospital."

"I'll be the judge of that!"

"Actually,_ sir,_ I don't think you'll be having any more say in Bridget's well being."

"What do you mean?" he said glaring at him.

Brackenreid smirked and said, "I pulled some strings and got your guardianship revoked."

"You bastard! How dare you interfere in my affairs! That's my brother's daughter! I have every right to look after her!"

"If you were capable of that," the inspector said dangerously, "we wouldn't be having this conversation. She's going to go live with some competent, loving people from now on."

In response the man yelled and then lunged at Brackenreid. He dodged him easily and thumped him in the back hard, knocking him over. Then he put his foot on his back to keep him down as he squirmed around.

"Oye!" barked Brackenreid, "somebody arrest this tosser for attempted assault of a police officer!"

Two constables swooped in and carried the screaming man off to the cells. His wife just gave him an apologetic look, didn't say anything and left.

Brackenreid took a deep breath._ Ah! What a lovely morning!_

* * *

The Murdoch's had taken the day off from work to spend time together. No one particularly felt like running around in the park so instead they stayed in doors and read Ben stories and played some silly games with him (the latter was something Murdoch normally disliked but today he was more than happy to).

In the evening they had an unexpected visitor. Ruby.

As soon as Julia saw her sister, she seemed to forget all her past grievances and embraced her with all her heart.

"Oh sister! How I've longed to see you!"

"I'm so sorry for leaving, Julia, it was terribly selfish of me! So when I heard what happened I said goodbye to the Wright brothers and came straight away! I'm so happy you found him!"

"Is that Aunt Ruby?" called an angelic voice.

"Yes, son," said Murdoch. "Why don't you-"

The boy needed no more encouragement and ran towards her, screaming, "Aunt Ruby!" over and over again. Ruby scooped him up in her arms, with difficulty. Murdoch couldn't tell if this was feigned or not as Ben had gotten heavier recently and she wasn't the strongest person.

"Oh you've gotten so big Ben!" she gushed. "You're almost a grown man!"

"No I'm not!" he said. "You're so silly Aunt Ruby!"

Then she tickled his tummy and he laughed uncontrollably.

She placed him on the ground again and he asked, "Where did you go for so long Aunt Ruby?"

"Well, I needed some time away Ben, but I'm back now and I'm never going to leave again."

Even in all the excitement, Julia was struck by the way her sister had said that. It sounded like she was being truly sincere, like she was absolutely certain of this fact.

"That's good!" he said shrilly. Then he hugged her leg and ran back towards Murdoch who was in the living room, watching the goings on from afar.

"William," she said coming over to him and hugging him as well.

"Ruby, it was nice of you to _finally_ show up again." He said this more sternly than he had meant to but he was still fairly annoyed at the state she had left George in.

All of a sudden she burst out crying on his shoulder and Murdoch was absolutely bewildered. He shared a look with his wife and she was at a loss too. "There, there," he said awkwardly, patting her on the back. "I didn't mean to upset you, Ruby, I'm sorry."

In response she cried all the more and Murdoch looked like he wished he could be anywhere but there.

_ "_It's time for bed, Ben," said Julia, taking the inquisitive boy by the hand and leading him upstairs.

"What's wrong with Aunt Ruby?" he asked his mother.

"I honestly don't know son."

After he had been tucked in, Julia hurried back downstairs. Something must be seriously wrong with her sister to make her cry like that. The last time she could recall her doing so was at their mother's funeral. That was almost twenty years ago. She found them in the kitchen, with cups of tea, tears still silently streaming down her sisters face.

When William spotted her, he became immensely relieved, and visibly relaxed. She sat down at the edge of the table so that she could face both of them at once. William poured her some tea and she thanked him for it.

Julia placed a hand over her sisters and asked, "Ruby what on earth is the matter?"

She glanced up at her sister and then William and then averted both their gazes.

"Do you want William to leave?"

Ruby shook her head. "No that won't be necessary," she said shakily. "He's going to find out one way or another." She stared directly into her sisters eyes and said, "I'm pregnant."


End file.
